


Third chances

by Samaire (AbstractFairytales)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Grey Warden - Freeform, Grey Wardens, Other, POV Blackwall, Spoilers, Thom Rainier - Freeform, joining wardens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-03-20 19:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3661989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbstractFairytales/pseuds/Samaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Warning: slight spoilers!</p><p>Blackwall was the second character in Dragon Age Inqisition that I grew very fond off. Sensing there was a history there. I always wondered what would happen if he was actually sent to join the wardens. Seeing that was the choice i took when judging him. Which was sadface cause he was my first romance interest in the game as well. (Boy do I know how to pick them...sigh) So here is a small ficlet , about 1000 words, about that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Third chances

Blackwall stood there in silence. Beside him were two more. A woman in her early twenties, full of ideals and hope. Her name was Ylva, a convicted thief from Denerim. Her eyes shone with determination and courage. Right beside her again, stood a man in his late twenties, still younger than him however, looking way more stern and serious. A poor city elf wanting to do good, and get out of an alienage in Orlais. In his journey with the Inqisition Blackwall had opened his eyes to people. Therion Lavellan, an elf, had fought for them all. Tooth, nali, body and spirit. Gone against everyone and everything, and he had won. He had essentially, from the ground up, built a small empire in itself. Perhaps not in land, but certainly in soul. It was out of respect to the inquisitor, not to mention how the others had inspired him. Cullen, Iron Bull, Therion, and every man and woman fighting and helping, that he admitted to his crime. Going home to face it had been the hardest thing he had ever done in his life. Later having to face the inquisitor, who had pulled strings to get him delivered to Skyhold, felt even heavier. Those kind warm eyes of the inquisitors, which teared up when he was forced to judge Thom Rainier, Blackwall.

If he had been in the Inquisitors shoes, he may not have been so kind. Therion had forgiven him, spoken to him with kindness. Words he’d never forget, and he’d cherish those words for the rest of his life. When Therion found him, he had been trying to teach farmers self-defence against bandits. He had travelled Thedas as Blackwall, attempting to do good; to be a better man than he had been as Rainier. He could not deny that. It was exactly what he had been doing, and he had been offered this life as atonement. A chance to reach his dream. To become what he had wanted to be for years. Though for the first time in quite some time, he felt genuinely afraid. With the inquisition he had faced spirits, demons, creatures and the twisted insanity and evil of men. But now, he felt naked. Standing there before Stroud and Alistair Theirin. The very king of Ferelden and the leader of the Grey wardens.

Stroud held onto a large silver chalice, his eyes going from face to face, looking grave.

“Join us brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry out the duty that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day, we shall join you…..» Stroud spoke softly. His orleisian accent ringing in his ears. It all sounded rather ethereal, yet frightening. “Those are the words spoken since the beginning, now, you must drink….” With that said he held the chalice out towards Ylva. Though she was putting on a brave face, he could tell by the look in her eyes that her courage had now faded. Slender fingers was cupping the chalice, a deep breath was taken before she put the metal against her lips and tilted her head back to have a big drink of the mixture. Then seconds passed in silence before her body tensed up. Eyes rolled back, so only the white was visible. The look on Alistair’s face was one of worry, and Stroud as well looked as if he was hit by night terrors. Ylva fell to the ground, lifeless. Halward, the elf, seemed disheartened. Looking down at her motionless body. Trying to nudge her, but getting no response.

“I’m sorry…” Alistair sighed “but she is with the maker now….” The chalice was then handed to Halward. With shaky hands, and tears in his eyes, he’d drink. He too froze, grasped at his shirt and chest, as if something was wrong. Falling to the ground, but Stroud seemed to save the goblet. The young man was gasping, coughing, and sounds of pain. Blackwall knew them too well. His heart was sinking, his very soul was hoping that he’d survive this, his soul crying for that as he closed his eyes. Not wanting to see what could be a man’s last moments alive. Though seconds later, it grew silent. Alistair had sat down beside Halward and rolled him over, checking him.

“-He’s alive…..” A relief for them all “In my joining two of us lived, but, sometimes all have died….”

It was only him left. Heart was beating a hundred miles per minute. Rarely did Thom Rainier get nervous. It wasn’t many things that could make him nervous. After leading a life like his. Though the only other thing in recent memory was Ambassador Josephine Montilyet. He had known it could never be, she had known it could never be. Yet they had both exchanged tokens and gestures of want and love. Acknowledging each other feelings, but neither could do anything about them. This was all but sealing their fates even further. Either he’d die, or he’d be a grey warden. With a firm grip he took the goblet. It was best to just get it over with. What was he waiting for? Had he not wanted this for years? A clean slate? A new beginning. A new name for himself. The chance to do good. The chance that Therion had wanted for him. That the young elf knew he wished for, before he knew he wanted it himself.

The blood tasted like other blood, just stronger, and more rotten. Like metal and flesh mixed together in a unholy and vile concoction.

Every nerve in his body started to fire off. First it burned down his throat; it felt like his airway was closing. His chest was on fire, and he could feel a tense pain spreading quickly through his netire body. From the tip of his toes to the hair on his head. Blackwall coughed, fell over. Proudly he was fighting back. Using every trick he knew off to fight off the pain that was grasping his entire body. Then, he fell, onto the cold grey slates on the ground. The cold stone against his cheek was a welcome feeling. Body was growing numb now, but he was still fighting. He couldn’t see anymore, but he was still there…..wasn’t he? Then, it was all silent, all was dark.

“-Blackwall…?”

The voice woke him up. Opening his eyes he saw 3 people leaning over him .A blurry vision, but a voice he recognized.

“-Oh thank the maker, he lived…”

Stroud, Halward and Alistair slowly came into focus. He was alive.

A smile crossed his lips, for a moment, joy gleamed in his blue eyes. He had never thought he’d have a chance at a life again. To do better, to do well, to protect. That was what being a Blackwall was going to be about. Honor, sacrifice, to protect, and to have, finally once more, purpose.

 


End file.
